The Rise of Joker, a multi-part Underworld Empire story.

Rain poured over the streets of Bray, a soft mist rising from the ground in response. The town was a tourist trap, situated by the Irish seaside and straddling the border between Dublin and Wicklow.

Home to Ireland's only film studio, Ardmore Studios, it was full of gangsters and dirty politicians who wanted a cut of the profits. None of this mattered at the moment though, as the weeps of an Italian tourist were drowned out by the patters of the rain.

"Who are they working for?" When the man simply shook his head, a fist was brought down upon his already broken face, allowing blood to be flung onto the pavement to mix with the puddles of rainwater. "Who?"

The Italian bowed his head, knowing that the male with the face of a clown spoke of Hansel and Gretel. Hesitantly, he spoke. "A man who calls himself the Mastermind. They've amassed power in Italy. Now please-" The two Irishmen who held him flung him to the ground, looking towards Joker.

With a dismissive hand gesture, he gave the order to cover the Italian in gasoline, striking a match as they did so. Looking at their concerned faces, he spoke. "Fuil agus Gásailín." ( Blood and Gasoline. ) Dropping the match onto the man's writhing body, he turns and walks back towards the car they had come in. "Everything burns."

Re: The Rise of Joker, a multi-part Underworld Empire story.

Chapter Two "Is túisce deoch ná scéal."

The pub was relatively quiet, and for good reason. While it was normally bustling and making all sorts of drunken noise, everyone sat quietly. Joker was having a drink with an old pilot, and Joker disliked excessive amounts of noise.

They were drinking cheap whiskey, nobody could afford anything better, and they were the only two permitted at the bar. Speaking quietly, they arranged a flight.

"Davic, you used to have tea with my mother. I know you are a good man. I will pay you, you know this. I simply need this to be off the books."

The old man sighed, looking towards Joker.

"I know. But it is not that easy. It is a long flight, and I am very old. We will need to refuel on the way, my plane is not very big. We will need to bribe the port authorities to keep it off their books as well. That will cost extra money."

Joker would nod, pointing to Davic as he stands. "We leave tomorrow. I'll pay whatever it takes. Be ready."

Re: The Rise of Joker, a multi-part Underworld Empire story.

Chapter Three "Drochubh, drochéan."

The plane ride was horrible, the landings were even worse, and they arrived in Italy at the worst airport in the country. But they were in Italy. Joker wanted to jump with excitement, but he had some business to attend to first.

"Davic. You are returning to Ireland?"

Davic nodded, motioning towards his plane.

"As soon as she's refuelled."

Joker nodded, giving Davic a tight hug before looking him in the eye. "Does anyone know where you've gone?" As soon as Davic shook his head, one of Joker's goons wrapped a garrotte wire around his neck, choking him out right there. Motioning towards the plane, Joker speaks to a second thug. "Get rid of it." Exiting with a handful of other thugs and associates, Joker was ready to claim Italy.

Having arranged a meeting prior to his arrival, Joker met his contact in a café several kilometres away. Upon arrival, his men were shot from behind and a black bag was pulled over his head, hearing the word London before he was knocked unconscious.